


Behavioural Sciences

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theta isn’t exactly the most… studious student. Koschei deems fit to change this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behavioural Sciences

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

On the floor of the dorm-room, Theta crosses his ankles, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him, sits an unused textbook, practically begging to be scrawled upon. The door creaks open, and it takes him 2.1 seconds to turn over, spread the text-book to a page with markings on it, and stick a pen in his mouth. Koschei, in the doorway, grins down at him, studying the page.

‘Gravitational forces and manipulative equations for adjusting wavelengths? What are you, a first-year?’ He strides over, flipping the page to their current work, right at the end of the textbook. ‘Hmm, just as I thought. You’ve been day-dreaming again, haven’t you?’

Theta pulls his legs up under him to support his weight as he studies the page, and Koschei comes to sit next to him, pulling a book out to show the floods of equations on his own page.

‘It’s not hard, you know, if only you’d do some actual work.’ He sighs, a little _too_ theatrically to Theta’s ears, and scrabbles around in a desk-drawer nearby. ‘I can see you might need a little bit of encouragement.’

Theta’s face drains of colour. ‘No, don’t, Koschei. I’ve almost finished, see?’ He flips back a few pages, stumbling and thumbing too many pages as he goes, only to find a page he’d skipped two weeks ago because he’d fallen behind again and it was, quite frankly, rather boring.

He tries to cover his mistake, but the leather of the whip in Koschei’s hand comes down on the page. ‘ _Weeks_ behind? Worse than I thought.’ The tip of the whip hits the back of Theta’s ear, a bitingly cold pinprick of pain spreading to burning hot before settling to a dull throb. ‘Do I have to do _everything_ for you? After letting you cheat on the occasional test, I have to force you into doing work as well?’ He flips forward a few pages, ignoring the more recent pen-scratchings and smoothing the page for their latest work.

‘But…’ utters Theta, just as the painful cord of the whip comes down on his bare neck. Obediently, he shuts his mouth, filling the page with his own equations and only sometimes sneaking a look at Koschei’s already completed work.

Half an hour later, the work is only half completed, and Koschei is sitting on his bed, looking bored. He shuffles closer, leaning over the overly concentrated Theta and pointing out a rather obvious mistake in his simple arithmetic.

Irritated, Theta looks up before scratching out the number and replacing it. 

‘Better,’ murmurs Koschei coldly, before leaning over to study the rest of the work, stroking Theta’s face with his fingers. Theta shudders at the touch, shrinking away involuntarily after the whip’s stripes, before slinking back and pressing against the fingers. Knowing that it would be a mistake to abandon his work, he returns to it as Koschei’s hands continue to roam him, sliding through his hair and down the back of his neck, his spine, his arse, until it stops, suddenly, the hand slipping under his belt instead and stroking the part between both cheeks. On his neck, comes the touch of Koschei’s lips, stroking, his tongue licking up under his hairline and just behind his earlobe. 

The moment Theta’s pen hits the book, Koschei knows he’s won. The blond boy rolls over, eyes gazing upwards at him. Koschei halts, half smiling, waiting, and Theta, impatient as always, strains up, catching Koschei’s soft lips in his own. The backhand across his face makes him recoil, and, defiant, he climbs up to the now reclining Koschei, pushing his lips to his lover (abuser, destroyer) and _taking_.

Koschei pushes him backwards with surprising strength, hurling him to the end of the bed, the whip in one hand again. The thin leather strikes Theta’s face at a severe speed, and as he’s holding his stinging cheek, Koschei kicks his stomach, making him curl into himself. ‘Impertinent,’ snaps Koschei, punctuating his words with kicks. ‘Wilful.’ Theta expects the next kick, so Koschei changes tack. ‘Lowly.’ He pulls back Theta’s hair as he instinctively coils into himself from a kick that isn’t delivered. The pain on his face is beautiful, and Koschei cannot fully restrain himself from kissing those injured lips. 

Theta pulls his own hands up to push Koschei away, but he was expecting this, far more than Theta had before. The long length of the whip is easily adaptable, and Koschei winds it in a figure of eight around Theta’s wrists, tying a knot neatly when he’s finished. The handle of the whip still available, he knocks Theta’s jaw in a reprimanding fashion.

‘No.’ He says firmly, one simple word. Theta stares back defiantly, wrists below his waist so that he isn’t forced to look at them. Koschei pushes him backwards, the handle of the whip digging into the flesh just between Theta’s rib cages. The kisses he delivers are brutal, harsh, yet Koschei finds Theta kissing back just as firmly, a fierce retribution… an encouragement… a distraction. By his hardening cock, Koschei feels Theta’s fingers fiddling with the knots of the makeshift bonds, alternatively pulling on Koschei’s pants in a weak façade. Koschei’s hand rises to strike Theta’s face smartly, but he realises the positives of this development and turns his movement into a sweet caress. 

He notices when Theta finishes untying his bindings, and brings the now free whip upwards, letting the ends curl around Theta’s neck, and cruelly allowing the end to bite into flesh. Tugging on the new leash, he directs him toward the bed, letting the whip uncoil. 

‘Never,’ he snaps, leaning over Theta and roughly turning him on his stomach, ‘ever,’ he punctuates his words with stripes from the whip, pulling fabric from Theta’s back. ‘Try to dominate me.’ The strokes come faster and harder, and Theta can’t help but cry out in pain, tears soaking the covers of the bed. Koschei rolls him over, pushing down hard on his ribcage so that the open wounds press down uncomfortably. ‘Understand?’

Painfully, due to the weight on his stomach, Theta nods. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’ Asks Koschei, enjoying this conditioned submission and pushing it as far as possible.

‘Yes, Master,’ whispers Theta, the words wheezing out from weighted lungs. Koschei lifts himself off the other boy, and turns away, adjusting his pants. He waits for the anticipated hand, and whirls around, the whip in his hand easily administering the desired blow across Theta’s chest.

‘I don’t think you fully understood me,’ says Koschei angrily, eyes flashing. ‘Do you?’

Theta doesn’t answer, the question far too weighted to have any response that wouldn’t lead to more pain. 

‘Stand up,’ Koschei snaps, compassion gone completely. Theta scurries to his feet at the end of the bed. Good. ‘Middle of the room,’ he bites. Rummaging through a drawer, he pulls out what he needs. Theta’s face is now completely white, all wilfulness gone after the beating. Buttons of blood appear atop shallow wounds on Theta’s torso, and the picture makes Koschei smile. ‘Hands behind your back, he orders, and Theta obeys, nervously eyeing the whip in Koschei’s hand. Koschei, abandoning the whip, collects Theta’s own hands, pulling them as far up his back as he can, until the other cries out, and the sound of bones upon breaking point echo from his shoulders. Here, he cuffs the two wrists together, letting the metal snap closed with a satisfying grating noise. Theta’s arms relax as soon as Koschei releases them, the wrists falling down his back, his arms still twisted. Pulling out the newest implements, Koschei holds them up in front of Theta.

‘Blindfold?’ He asks, as if they were picking out clothes together. ‘No?’ he gives a grin, and tosses it aside.

‘What about this?’ He holds up a gag, but Theta doesn’t respond, stock still in the room. ‘Perhaps not.’ 

The last piece is a long slender chain, which he dangles from one finger. Looping it around the handcuff chain, he bolts it closed in a ring before dragging Theta backwards to the bed and lashing it to the post so that Theta’s arms are dragged painfully upwards again.

‘Now,’ he says, gently, all sense of malice gone from his words. Stroking Theta’s face, he gazes lovingly at his partner. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions, which I want you to answer truthfully.’ As Theta begins to open his mouth, Koschei silences him. ‘I know you’ll only want to answer as would please me, as is right and good, but I want the truth this time, I think.’ Slowly and uncertainly, Theta nods. One complication removed from the equation.

‘Explain Roderick’s law in relation to gravity accelerators.’ Theta’s mouth drops open, and he gazes quickly down to the textbook now discarded to the side. 

‘Wha-?’ He snaps his mouth shut immediately, and begins to recite the law, with perfect basic equations. 

Koschei nods. ‘Correct. Good.’ He strokes Theta’s face. ‘Now. Do you want this?’ He asks, letting his fingers trail down Theta’s stomach, below his belt. 

‘Yes,’ answers Theta truthfully. Even if he _had_ lied, Koschei would have found the truth inside his pants. Pain mingles with eroticism, adrenalin clouding his mind.

Fingers feeling along Theta’s length, Koschei nods. ‘Correct. Good.’  
The next question comes as even more of a surprise than the question about Roderick. 

‘Do you like Drax?’ Koschei asks quietly, unbuttoning Theta’s pants and stroking harder, faster. Theta just gapes, panting softly. ‘I have noticed, Theta, that your attention of late seems to have been wandering. I feel this may need correcting, as with everything else you do.’

‘No, Koschei,’ Theta whispers, as Koschei’s fingers wander along the tender skin behind his cock. ‘My Master. Drax? No. He’s just… a friend.’ He sighs as Koschei pinches that skin angrily. 

‘If you’re lying…’ Koschei allows the sentence to drag out dangerously. 

‘I’m not, Koschei, no. You, just you.’ He swallows, closing his eyes and arching back. Slowly Koschei unbuttons his own pants, inserting himself into Theta without preparation, with only Theta’s willing arching to ease the process.

He thrusts hard, punishingly, angling himself so as to heighten the pain. Theta’s face glows with anguish and exhilaration mixed with joy and hatred. Panting hard now, Koschei pushes harder, watching blood from the dry ripping run down his own cock. Theta’s abandoned cock bobs in the air, and is ignored. Theta pushes down on the cuffs, encouraging the thrusts and riding the shoots of white pain that spread through and up his arse.

After what seems like an age, Koschei comes, shooting himself into Theta’s body. Theta’s own cock empties itself, streaming white come across the bed, Koschei’s hands and stomach. Slightly disgusted, Koschei pulls out, panting and holding a cloth to Theta’s profusely bleeding arse, red blending with the white cream of Koschei’s come, a beautiful mix.

Pulling a key from his pocket, Koschei unlocks the handcuffs, letting them dangle on the chain. Theta groans, rubbing circulation back into his wrists. 

Koschei nods curtly. ‘Clean this up,’ he says coldly, buttoning his pants and gesturing at the scene before walking out the door.

~*~

When Koschei returns from his shower, he finds Theta on the floor, scribbling the final answers into his equations. The chains have gone from the bed-head, the shackle bolts easily removed. One peek in a drawer finds the gag, handcuffs, blindfold and chain neatly placed in the bottom, with the whip coiled up on top like a sleeping cat. On Koschei’s bed are clean bedclothes, the dirty ones swapped for Theta’s own. Theta’s bed is covered with his flipped blanket, the adorning blood and come removed from sight; a memory for the night to come. On the floor, Theta leans back, not particularly comfortably, and sighs contentedly at the work in front of him.

‘Still here?’ Snaps Koschei half-heartedly, picking up the completed work and setting it on the desk.

‘Come on,’ he says, covering a smile, and lets it grow as Theta stands obediently, following him out the door.


End file.
